


I won't let go

by TheIceQueen



Series: Buttercreams and friends prompts. [5]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Awesome Conor, Blood, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Burns, Concussions, Cooking, Crying, Dancing, Doctors & Physicians, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fainting, Fear, Fear of Death, Fire, Fluff, Head Injury, Headaches & Migraines, Hemophobia, Holding Hands, Hospitals, Hugs, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Light Angst, Maynard-moments, Men Crying, Nausea, Needles, Pain, Protective Conor, Protectiveness, Scared Conor, Scared Jack, Unconsciousness, fear of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 03:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIceQueen/pseuds/TheIceQueen
Summary: Prompt:Please could you do one where Jack is at home and he’s cooking something, but then he passed out for some reason like dehydration or hits his head, then the kitchen sets on fire while he’s unconscious? Conor finds him and saves him from the fire. Conor is really scared and panicking because Jack almost died, and Jack is scared because he almost died. Lots of worried brothers, fluff and angst please!





	I won't let go

The music in Jack’s apartment was loud. It had been an amazing day, mostly because he’d been able to sleep past eleven am and had no plans for the next two days, except that Conor was coming over for dinner and they would probably end up playing videogames all night.

Jack was dancing in the kitchen, cooking the dish he knew. He would have flipped both the knife and the glasses in the air, if he hadn’t just failed miserably in catching the wooden spoon.

Conor called to tell that he was on his way, and Jack held the phone between his ear and shoulder while grabbing the glass tray and turned to put in the oven. A sharp pain hit his forehead and spread rapidly to embrace his entire head, as he hit it on an open cabinet door.

“Shit!”

He dropped the phone on the floor. Jack’s sight was blurry at the edges and he tried to steady himself against the counter top but failed in placing the tray and it fell to the floor, shattering.

“Shit!” Jack put a hand on his forehead and the other on the counter breathing heavily to make his eyes see through the cloud of pain wrapped around his head. He could hear Conor yelling more and more frantic, on the phone, under the food and shards of glass.

Jack barely located the phone on the swaying floor before bending to pick it up, the motion made his head pound more and the pain spread to hit neck, back and arms. Fell to his knees and supported himself with both hands in the mess. When he could see more than sharp whites blinding him through spots of back, he took the phone. It was red. Jack was confused until he saw the glass in his hand. He hadn’t even noticed the pain. The blood was running over Conor’s voice and dripping on the floor.

“Con…” A sudden nausea overtook the already wobbly man, but before he could act on it his eyes went black and he didn’t feel the impact with the floor.

* * *

“Jack! Dammit, talk to me.”

Conor didn’t notice the people looking at him while he screamed at his phone and picked up his pace. Noise when Jack was cooking was normal, Conor would find it amazing if he didn’t brake anything, but the half spoken name and the sudden silence was freaking him out.

He was almost running down the street, listening to the music in Jack’s apartment on the phone pressed brutally to his ear in hopes of the sound of something else, anything else.

“Jack! Can you hear me?!”

Only three minutes after Jack went silent Conor turned down Jack’s street. He looked up at the windows. He could hear the loud music and wondered if a neighbor would already be knocking on the door, but something else made everything go quiet. The cars, people talking, the music, everything vanished as he saw dark smoke from the only open window. Not a lot, but sure as hell enough to make Conor run for the stairs. He could climb them faster than the elevator if he had to, and he did. At the door he’d already found his key, just in case, but the door was open.

The smell of burned… something hit him hard as he ran for the kitchen.

“Jack! Where are you?!”

A dish-towel had caught fire on a hot plate. Without thinking Conor removed his jacket and used it to grab the towel and throw it in the sink. While doing so he saw Jack by his feet. Part of the towel had fallen to the floor and his pantleg had caught fire. Conor wrapped his jacket around it, suffocating the flames.

“Jack! Wake up. Jack!”

Jack was out cold. Conor hadn’t checked a pulse since his Mandatory First Aid Training when he took his driver’s license, but he found an unmistakable rhythm on his brother’s neck, and for the first time since the crash on the phone, he filled his lungs with air.

Conor looked over the scene while he turned off the hotplate, closed the oven and turned on the water to put out the still smoldering towel. He knocked the cabinet door closed on his way down to his brother.

“Jack.” He checked his pulse again and shook him by the shoulder. He didn’t react. Conor’s heart was razing and he didn’t know whether to stop the bleeding on the hand, put something cold on his leg, or call 999 first, most of all he wanted to shake his brother awake.

He grabbed a clean towel and tried to wrap Jack’s hand, but he was scared to move the big piece of glass sticking out of the skin. Jack moved his head and moaned in pain.

“Jack, dude. Can you hear me?”

As quick as he’d reacted he was still again. Conor swallowed to hold back tears and picked his phone from his jacket still on Jack’s leg.

“I don’t know. I think he hit his head. His pants were burning, haven’t seen how it looks, he has a big piece of glass in his hand… he’s not waking up!”

The operator cut him of and asked him to breathe and if there was still a fire.

“No, I put it out! Please just help him.”

He was assured that the EMT’s would be there soon and asked to stay on the line. Conor followed the commands on still checking Jack’s pulse and breathing, while he had problems controlling his own.

He heard the sirens and soon the apartment was filled with people. The firemen, quickly cleared out. The two EMT’s checked Jack’s pulse and moved him to a gurney. Jack moaned and turned his head in response to the movement. Conor was frozen in place, looking at the commotion. One of the men put a mask over Jack’s face and Jack winced and turned away. Conor’s heart skipped a beat and he didn’t notice the single tear moving slowly over his cheekbone.

Jack arced his back and moaned, clearly from pain, when Conor’s jacket was removed from his leg. Conor rushed over and instinctively grabbed Jack’s good hand.

“Jack. It’s alright.” Jack’s hand was limp in Conor’s and the older Maynard had trouble focusing on his brother’s face. He had to get it together, Jack was the one who needed help, he couldn’t take away from that, but he couldn’t feel his legs.

One of the paramedics started wrapping Jack’s hand and Jack moaned again.

“Shh. Jack. I’m here.” Conor squeezed his little brother’s hand with both of his but still no response. Even as the other EMT opened Jack’s eyes to shine a light in them and he turned his head away, his hand stayed limp, as did the rest of his body.

“How…? What…?” Conor looked at the man, not much older than himself, for any kind of answer to his vague question.

“It looks like just a concussion. He might have passed out from that, or the pain, or maybe all of it together.”

“He does have a problem with blood.”

The paramedic looked at Jack’s hand and smiled. “That could also very well explain it. It’s a good thing to know for when he wakes up too. It’s probably the pain that’s making it longer for him to wake up. We’ll give him something for that in the ambulance, where we can monitor him better.

They couldn’t all fit in the elevator with the gurney, but Conor wasn’t letting go, so one of the paramedics volunteered to take the stairs.

* * *

In the ambulance everything went really fast again. Jack was still out but moaned and twisted to get away when the IV was placed, and his t-shirt was lifted to attach some kind of stickers to monitor… everything.

Conor held Jack’s hand tight and rubbed the backside of it with his other hand, careful not to touch the IV-line on his lover arm. “Jack. I’m right here. You’ll feel better soon… Jack? Can you open your eyes and look at me?”

Jack’s leg looked horrible to Conor, angry red and he was sure blisters were already forming at some places. The EMT placed a white, wet piece of fabric over it, and Conor gasped as Jack squeezed his hand.

“It’s okay Jack. You’ll be fine.”

Conor clutched Jack’s hand like he was afraid he would slip away and brushed his other hand through his little brother’s hair. Jack’s eyelids flickered and eventually they slid open just a little.

“Jack! Oh my god.” Conor lost sensation from chest down, and would have fallen of the seat if he wasn’t strapped in. “Jack. Can you hear me?”

Jack turned his head and looked Conor in the eyes. He blinked sluggishly and undoubtedly had trouble focusing.

“Con…”

“It’s me. You scared me for a moment there.” Conor smiled, trying to hide the fact that he was still on the verge of freaking out.

“What?” Jack blinked again, slower this time. “My head…”

“I know. Jack you hid it hard.” Conor’s fingers were still in Jack’s hair but he held still, barely touching his scalp.

“Jack.” The man, Conor almost had forgotten was in there with them, required Jack’s attention. “Good to see you awake. You’re in an ambulance. Do you know why?”

The lethargic man looked at his brother and then at the stranger. “My head hurts… my leg…”

The EMT nodded. “You have acquired quiet the burn on your lover leg, it looked like it will heal up without any problems though. I’m sure you have a concision too. I’ll give you more for the pain.” The man picked up a plunger and pressed the liquid into the IV. “Can I look in your eyes? Then you can relax the rest of the ride.”

Jack looked at his big brother and Conor smiled at him. “Let him see, then you can close them.”

Conor’s heart skipped jet another beat when Jack let out a pained sob and squeezed the blood out of his fingers.

“Shh. It’s over. Close your eyes and relax.”

Jack turned his head towards the older brother and Conor moved a few strands of hair from his forehead. They looked at each other a couple of seconds before Conor nodded encouragingly and Jack closed his eyes.

Conor looked at the paramedic. “Is he…?” Conor knew that he wasn’t alright, but what was he supposed to say? “Will he be alright?”

The man sat down with a clipboard and wrote down some numbers from the machines. “These are all minor injuries. They will be able to tell you more in the hospital, but don’t be too worried.”

The vague answer didn’t sit right with Conor, but there was something about the man’s smile, and that Jack was holding on to him and not sleeping, that made him believe him.

* * *

In the hospital Conor was standing next to Jack’s bed, still holding on tight to his brother’s hand. The medics were talking to a man, who had to be the doctor, outside the room.

When the EMT’s left the man came in and of course the first thing he wanted to do was to shine a light it Jack’s eyes. Jack tried to grab on to Conor with his other hand too, but the doctor caught him by the wrist and held him still.

“Whoa, Jack. You have to keep this still.”

Only now did Jack notice the thick bandage around his hand, red in some places and a piece of glass sticking out. Conor saw the panic ricing in his brother’s eyes.

“Jack.” He put a hand lightly on Jack’s chin and tried to turn his head. “Jack, look at me. It’s alright, it’s not that bad.”

Jack eventually looked at Conor, with tears lining up to fall from his eyes. “Everything will be fine.” Conor smiled and Jack nodded carefully and small.

The doctor placed Jack’s hand next to him and asked about the eyes again. Jack turned his head further to Conor’s side and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Can’t it wait? They just did it in the ambulance.” Conor looked at his scared little brother and then at the doctor and tried very hard to keep his voice from cracking. “The light hurts his eyes… a lot.”

The doctor nodded and placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “There’s nothing that indicates more than a concussion, so I’ll wait till after I’ve taken a look at your leg and the surgeon have seen your hand.

Conor brushed a hand through Jack’s hair and the younger man opened his eyes and relaxed a bit.

The man turned his attention to Jack’s lower leg. He put on gloves and slowly lifted the wet fabric. Jack cried out and almost pulled Conor down in the bed with him.

“Shh. I know. Shh… calm down.”

The doctor waved over a nurse they Conor hadn’t even seen was in the room, and she managed to push something in Jack’s IV without taking his hand from Conor. “Tell me if it hurts. We can still give you more for the pain.” Jack nodded at the nurse and Conor could se that the tried to smile even though he failed miserably.

The doctor was back at it and Jack’s breathing spiked again. “Does it still hurt?” Conor was starting to hate everyone in this room, in this hospital. Why couldn’t they just knock Jack out, so he didn’t have to deal with this?

Jack shook his head. “N-no. It doesn’t hurt.”

Conor’s breathed again, and lifted Jack’s hand with both of his, and rubbed it firmly with his thumbs. It didn’t take long for the doctor to come to the conclusion that Jack’s leg would heal completely on it’s own, if they just kept the skin from drying out.

“We’ll keep the cold cover over it for the time being and I’ll be in to check on it later. The surgeon should be here soon.” The doctor left the room, and the nurse made sure both Jack and Conor knew how to get her in there if something changed or Jack needed more for the pain.

Jack was quiet as they waited. Conor didn’t like it; Jack was never quiet. “You in pain?” Conor had pulled over a chair so he could sit at eyelevel with his brother and only needed to whisper.

“No.” Jack whispered, not moving a muscle or opening his eyes. “I’m dizzy… everything moves.”

Conor placed his free hand on Jack’s chest and started rubbing slow, big lines from stomach to mid chest. Jack seemed to untense a little and his face relaxed, soon his breaths synced up with the rhythm of Conor’s hand.

“Th-anks.”

“Shh. Just relax. It’s only your concussion, and maybe all the drugs. Just lie still.”

A few minutes later they were interrupted by the nurse and another woman. Jack shifted a bit towards Conor as the, God knows which number stranger of the day, sat down next to him. She introduced herself as the surgeon and made sure Jack was up to speed before she touched his hand.

“Jack, look at me.” Conor couldn’t get Jack to look away. His eyes were glued to the long bandage coming off, getting more and more red as it got closer to the center. “Jack, please.”

Conor understood that Jack needed to be in some kind of control, but he knew that his brother didn’t do well with blood.

The last piece of the fabric came off and the doctor placed Jack’s hand carefully on a small padded table next to the bed. Jack turned white and breathed sharply through his nose.

“Jack. It’s okay. Look away.” Conor tried to turn Jack’s head but only when a gag shook Jack from the trance he was in, did the older brother manage to get his attention. Jack gagged again and looked scared into Conor’s eyes.

“Co…” He gagged again, and his eyes drifted away.

“Breathe. Just breathe. I’m right here.” Conor squeezed Jack’s hand a little tighter and rubbed his temple with his thumb.

“I… I…” Jack’s eyes rolled back, he blinked and Conor tried to catch his line of sight, but it was too wavering. He leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. “I know. It’s okay.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Conor saw the nurse come over, but he swiftly waved at her to stay away. He knew Jack would do this, and he knew that he would panic if strangers interrupted now. Jack’s hand moved in what must have been attempt to hold on tighter to Conor’s, but he was loosing strength. Conor held tight and didn’t move.

“I’m here. Breathe.”

Jack’s eyes rolled back again, and his hand loosened around Conor’s fingers. Conor swallowed and blinked a few times to hold back tears before he sat up and looked at the two women in the room. The nurse came over slowly and checked Jack’s pulse.

“He’s just passed out, he does that.” Conor didn’t know if it was an explanation or an opening for confirmation. Jack normally got queasy around blood, but just turn away or leave the room, it’s been awhile since he’d passed out.

The nurse nodded and smiled. “Nothing to be worried about. He’s just passed out like you said.”

Conor turned to the surgeon. “Can you do that while he’s out?” He looked at the hand, for the first time without having to concentrate on Jack, and he heard his blood rush passed his ears and felt it land somewhere between his knees and feet.

The nurse was by his side, with a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay? Do you need to lie down?” Conor shook his head and looked at the doctor’s face instead.

“I’ll be able to sew it up here, it doesn’t look like the glass is in that deep. Maybe you should look away while I take it out?” Conor nodded. He’d figured that one out himself too.

“I have to numb the area first, even with the pain medicine he’s already had, he might feel it, so you just talk to him and keep him calm, you seem to be pretty good at that.” The woman smiled at him and then put on new gloves. Conor got close to Jack’s face again and placed a light hand in his messy hair.

When the first injection went in, Jack whimpered and shifted a bit. Conor held his hand a bit tighter. “It’s alright. Just relax.”

The next one was harder to get through; Jack let out a muffled cry and turned his head to the pained side. “Jack. It’s over soon. I promise.” Conor moved his head back and saw his brother open his eyes for just a moment and then go limp again, passed out.

For the next ten-fifteen minutes, Conor kept whispering encouragements to Jack and letting him know that he was right next to him. He didn’t like that he had been out this long, but the nurse and doctor kept reassuring him that everything was fine. He did have a lot of painkillers in his system and he was bound to be exhausted on top of that. However, when Jack finally showed signs that he was about to wake up, Conor’s stomach sank. The surgeon wasn’t finished.

Jack hummed in discomfort, which could just as well be from being touched when waking up, as it could be from pain.

“Are you finished? He… he’s waking.”

“Almost done, but he wont feel any pain in his hand, only me touching him. Just make sure he doesn’t look.” The last part was clearly meant for the nurse, but Conor was definitely going to do his part.

Jack hummed again and tried to move his head, but Conor held him tight. “Lay still, little brother.”

“Conor?”

“Yeah, Jack. It’s me. Listen, you need to be calm. Everything is okay.”

Jack moved a bit and froze as he tried to move his arms and head. His eyes sprung open and Conor was right there to catch his sight.

“Jack. Calm down. They need to fix your hand, remember?”

Jack nodded and seemed to have caught up with the situation, but he still tried to move his hand from the doctor. The nurse waked to the other side and put a light hand on his shoulder and one on his elbow.

“Jack. Let them work, it’s almost over. Does it hurt?”

“My… my head.”

“Only your head?”

Jack nodded, and Conor looked up at the nurse.

“I can give you something for that, Jack. But you need to relax here first.”

Conor smiled at Jack and moved his hand in Jack’s to lace their fingers. Jack relaxed and let the doctor finish, and as the new dose of drugs made it into his system he was able to breathe properly again too.

* * *

The first doctor had been in some time later and Jack had almost torn off Conor’s arm when he was met with the light, but it was over quick, and the man had promised that he would leave them alone the rest of the night.

Alone in the room, with little to no light, Jack had finally been able to relax, and voluntarily go to sleep. Conor hadn’t moved from his side, still holding his hand. He’d been reassured that everything was fine, countless times by now, but that wasn’t it. He couldn’t physically let go of Jack’s hand. He wasn’t scared that something was going to happen he just couldn’t shake the thought that he’d almost lost him. Jack could have died in that kitchen. Conor’s eyes welled up and soon he couldn’t see. It didn’t matter either way, he had Jack’s hand in his, nothing else was important. He could have lost his brother, oh God, his little brother could have died. Conor bucked and landed on the mattress next to Jack. He sobbed loudly, he didn’t care, and he couldn’t help it if he did.

Jack squeezed Conor’s hand. “Conor?”

Conor sat up and wiped his eyes. “You’re up. How do you feel?”

“Okay. Why are you crying?”

Conor wiped his face again and sniffled. “No reason, I’m just tired I guess.” Jack looked at Conor like he knew that wasn’t true, but he didn’t say anything.

“Do you need anything?”

Jack shook his head, still looking investigative at his older brother. As saved by the bell, the nurse walked in, to check on Jack. He got a little more for his headache and the pain in the leg and hand had started coming back too.

She looked at Conor, obviously noticing his read face. “We don’t have a bed for you, but you are welcome to stay.” Conor nodded and smiled at her. “Jack, you need to stay the night, but you can both be out of here tomorrow, when the doctor has cleared you.”

When she left, the room was filled with an awkward silence. Conor didn’t think they’d ever experienced that between them before. Conor looked at Jack’s hand in both of his and rubbed the backside of his palm without any thought.

What felt like an eternity later, Conor was sure Jack was sleeping and he looked up at his brother’s face, only to have his stomach change places with his heart. Jack’s face were lined with tear tracks and more were still flowing silently from his eyes.

“Jack?”

Conor moved closer and lofted Jack’s hand to his own chest. “What is it?”

“I…” Jack’s lower lip quivered as he looked at Conor. “I… Conor…” He squeezed Conor’s hand and lifted his bandaged one from his stomach before realizing that he couldn’t use it.

“Jack… Does it hurt?”

Jack shook his head and bit his lip.

“Then tell me. What is it? Can I do anything?” Conor was getting desperate and dangerously close to letting the levees break himself.

“Conor.” Jack looked at his hand on his stomach. “I… I could have died. Conor, I almost died.”

Tears broke loose from Conor’s eyes. Conor sat on the edge of the bed and without thinking about Jack’s concussion or dizziness he lifted his little brother to a seated position and hugged him tight.

“I know, but you didn’t.”

Jack hugged back, it could be mostly not to fall helplessly back in the mattress, but Conor didn’t let go as long as Jack was shaking from his strained breathing and deep sobs.

“You’re still here. You’re going to be just fine… Shh… It’s okay.”

When the room again felt quiet, except from a sporadic sniffle from either brother once in a while, Conor moved back a bit so he could look at Jack.

“I get it. I was scared, but you made it.”

Jack swallowed and let Conor wipe the tears from his cheeks. “No _you_ made it. I wasn’t awake.”

Conor smiled at his little brother and helped him slowly down again. “That’s right, but I’m your big brother; I’ll always be there to clean up your mess.”

Jack chuckled and closed his eyes to regain control after. “Does that mean that you’ve cleaned the kitchen?”

Conor laughed out loud. “I was a little busy, priorities Jack, priorities.” He sat down in the chair again and placed his hand on top of Jack’s. “Besides it wasn’t that kind of mess I was talking about… but I’ll do it this time. It might start all over if you have to clean that blood.”

“Yeah, thanks. I don’t think I can take another day like this.”

“Hey.” Conor was happy to see Jack smiling again and actually being able to joke a little. “Don’t forget who was awake through the whole thing.”

Jack smiled and shook his head. He took a deep breath and Conor knew that he had to sleep again soon. “Thanks, Conor.”

“Sure thing little brother… but you owe me a new jacket.”

Jack frowned, but Conor had to hold off on explaining that one, because Jack had already closed his eyes before the confusion left his face.


End file.
